Count Me In

Off from work today. Got 8 hours of sleep. Closer to 9, actually. Took the dog for a brisk walk around the neighborhood. Had a nice breakfast. Enjoyed three cups of freshly brewed coffee. From everything that I read, I should be at the peak of my mental powers right now. So let's do this.

The great sportswriter Dan Jenkins once described golf as a good walk spoiled. With so many people protesting every last little thing these days, it's now more important than ever to carefully pick your battles. If you're throwing a tantrum every day, eventually everybody stops listening. I lose my temper so infrequently that when I do, the matter of my anger is treated with much more respect. Anyway, I understand a lot of the anger regarding the health-care bill, bailouts, cap and trade legislation, etc. Yet there's one protest that's to be catching fire that seems to me to be a good protest spoiled: The Census.

I received my census form in the mail a couple of weeks ago, and prior to its arrival it was a popular topic on many of the radio and television talk shows that I frequent. I heard bluster and outrage about what an invasion of privacy it was. How dare the government ask for things as invasive as "How many people live at your house", or "How old are you?" (especially prickly for female participants) How dare they??

Before I opened it, I expected to see all sorts of probing questions, so I was a little bit disappointed when I saw that all it wanted was to basically see who lives in the house. That's it. We lead a pretty simple existence, Pumpkin and me (or is it Pumpkin and I?). We both work, pay the mortgage and bills on time, go out to dinner every so often, hang out with an old dog and watch TV at night, go to bed at a decent hour. We have nothing to hide. In short, answering the questions took no longer than a couple of minutes. I put it in inside the postage-paid envelope (thanks USA!) and mailed it off the next morning.

I laugh (and yes, scoff) at the people who say they're not going to put down honest information. As someone who's dealt with identity theft, I'd rather the government have honest information than not. But if it makes you feel better to to list your address as the one that Mr. Douglas and Arnold the Pig used in "Green Acres", knock yourself out. It just seems like the waste of a good protest to me. A good protest is something that accomplishes something at the end of the day, whether it was the intended consequence or not. Shirking the census has all of the impact of screaming at the TV when the ball goes through your shortstop's legs. It feels good to get your frustration out, but in the end accomplishes nothing.

I wonder how many people who bitch and moan about filling out the census form give all that information (and more, much more) to their local slot club so they can stand in line and get a free fanny pack or two-slice toaster. Prioritize before you energize.

Things I Don't Understand (Part I of CCLV)

I don't consider myself a dumb guy, but the following question may change that thinking.

Why can't someone just buy their own health insurance?

Granted, for the past 15 years or so, my insurance has either been covered by my employer, or by my wife's employer. I haven't had to go out and actively seek a policy. Certainly one can do that, no? Nevada Rep. Shelley Berkley says that once people lose their jobs, they lose their insurance as well. That can't be right, can it? I mean, yes, they lose their insurance that their former employer used to provide them, but they can still get it, can't they?

How did we get to the point where the benefits are now the most important part of a person's job? Whether it's health insurance, a 401k plan, dental, vision, whatever- it seems the first thing that a person thinks about when they get fired (ok, maybe the second or third) is: what am I going to do about benefits? I admit that I gave that a thought before realizing I could jump on Pumpkin's plan until I landed a new gig. Still, I felt bad that her paycheck was much smaller because of that. I never considered looking on my own for a policy that best fit what I needed as a married father of none.

Maybe I'm old school, but I still consider the employer-employee relationship to be a good day's work for a good day's pay. How did we get to the point where the employer has to take care of everything for you but tucking you in at night? Isn't it enough that they pay you a wage that allows for food, shelter, and the occasional Friday night run to Applebee's? Wouldn't the checks be larger if the employer didn't have to worry about providing you with an ever-increasing health care package? Employers now are faced with the possibility of laying off more workers because of Obamacare. Why can't they just hire people to work for them, pay the people their wages, and that's that? Isn't that what Wal Mart does (again, forgive the ignorance if Wal Mart caved in to union pressures. I must've missed that)? In the meantime, the employee can study for whatever health-care, investment, dental plan, that best suits the needs of him and his family. What's so hard to understand about this?

I must be a moron because I don't hear anybody else speaking the argument. That, or I'm a genius. Either way, I'm confused

This One's For You, Mikey

Another radio guy I know got sacked today. I asked him what happened and he said his boss said that "his talk breaks were too long". That's about it. This guy worked mornings, so if there's a place where your talk breaks can be lengthy, that's where. I'm Facebook friends with him, so I'll get updates on things that he did with the station and he always seemed to be out in his community. Nice guy, well liked, not a big ego. Big deal. His talk breaks were too long. Here's a box. Pack your stuff.

I've said this before, but show me a radio station that pushes a "more music" morning show, and I'll show you a loser. Now more than ever, it will be personalities that radio needs to save itself. It just needs the incomprehensible incompetence of radio management to get their boot off of the personalities' throats, and it doesn't look like that's going to happen anytime soon.

It's abundantly clear that the most successful radio shows have nothing to do with playing the hits, and everything to do with showcasing the biggest personalities: Limbaugh, Stern, Dees (ok, maybe that one's a stretch). Yet, time and again, we jocks are told to cut the chit chat and spin the tunes. I've even had a market manager tally up the number of songs played over one week's time and told me that that number indicated that I was talking too much (forgetting the fact that they had added two extra :60 commercials each hour and the average length of a country song had increased by over a minute). And this was a boss that I actually had respect for!

People can get music almost anywhere these days. What's sorely lacking is entertainment. Satellite radio was supposed to be the next big thing when it arrived because it was all music, commercial free. Subscriber numbers have been disappointing. In fact, a large number of people simply signed up for the service because that was the only place they were going to be able to hear Howard Stern. A personality. An entertainer. Music is omnipresent. There's only one Stern. Again, a lesson. Staff a radio station with personalities people want to listen to, and every sales person will be driving a Bentley. Christ, what's so hard to understand about this?

Lately we're seeing some music artists starting up their own record labels because they grew tired of how things were handled in a typical record label operation. Maybe that can happen with radio, where a bunch of jocks fed up with the "just play more music" mentality can put a group together and show the suits how it's supposed to be done. I don't see any other way for radio to pull out of its death spiral. Every radio salesperson elevated to a position where they can make decisions over programming is akin to a morbidly obese guy eating another triple cheeseburger. A quick death is inevitable

Parental Guidance

Off from work today, celebrating my dad's 80th birthday. Yeah, he's slowed down a little bit through the years, but if I'm still going at 80 like my dad is, I'll take it. My parents are here for six days and not one of those days has this on the itinerary: "Hang out. Do nothing". It's go time, all the time.

I think of this whenever I hear or read the latest warnings about food, drink, medicine, air quality, water quality, etc. Instead of using the "Study of the Week" as a guide to how to live my life, maybe I should look to what my parents have done. Sure, they've had their share of health scares, but no one runs clean and lean start to finish. So, if I'm to take my parents' example to live a longer, happier life I'd:

1) Work at a job I enjoy. Check

2) Retire early. The memory of the joy my parents had when the governor of Wisconsin passed a bill making retirement possible at 55 years of age stands strong to this day. They've been retired for 20+ years and don't seem to miss what they did (both teachers). In fact, from the war stories they get from colleagues still in the trenches, they believe it was the best move they ever made. Besides having a third child, of course. My dad mentioned to me last night that based on pensions and investments, they make more now not working than when they were employed. We should all be so lucky.

3) Travel. They don't take long trips, but there isn't a month that goes by where they're not on the road or in the air. My last vacation that was just me and Pumpkin was in May of 2008. Trips home are nice, but I'm not sure if "vacation" can be used as a label, certainly not when I can hear my dad snoring from down the hall

3a) Stay cheap. Comfort Inns and Holiday Inn Express are just fine, thanks

3c) Stay near a casino. After all, what fun is life without a little gambling? And what's more fun that holding a pair and drawing to a four-of-a-kind? Not one thing.

4) Drink. I don't think a day has passed(other than during illnesses or surgeries, and even then...) that I can remember my parents not having a cocktail or two. Mom: martinis (gin & vermouth, not the pussy kinds that populate the landscape these days) Dad: Beer, and the occasional Rusty Nail (scotch and drambuie) when he's feeling frisky. Every damn day. I remember one time when we went back for a few days, we went out for a fish fry and Pumpkin and I went to the hostess stand to get seated, not realizing my parents had grabbed a couple of chairs at the bar. I asked why they didn't want to go right to the table and my mom, shocked look on her face, said it was "unheard of" not to sit at the bar for a bubble or two before dinner. Not being ones to breach etiquette, Pumpkin and I took seats at the bar and quaffed.

Those are my parents' four basic principles to happiness. Yes, they had kids but I think their happiest years have been after we all got the hell out of the house. So, if the lesson to be learned from that is don't have kids, I can check that box as well.

Debtors And Predators

My credit card bill this month was 10 pages.

Ten.

I don't mind telling the balance: $189. I wrote a check for the amount ($200, actually. Easier to subtract) and sent it away. No worries. Very simple, actually.

The supposed difficulty most seem to have with paying their credit card balance in full seems to be the reason for the inordinately high number or trees that had to die for my bill to be sent out. When I picked it up out of the mailbox, I was struck but the envelope's thickness and didn't really know what to expect. I wish I would've saved it to go over page by page here but really, 1) I have so many better things to do, and 2) next month's may have even more pages. I guess that's if people fail to grasp the basic concepts of interest advanced in the 10-page bill. So much for the concept of the "predatory" credit card companies. predators don't explain their intentions in such exhausting detail.

On page one of the bill there was this example: my amount ($189), the minimum payment ($15) and how long it would take me with my card's interest rate (Really, I don't know. 17%, maybe) to pay off my amount ($189) by only paying the minimum payment ($15) each month. Grand total: 14 months. It was literally spelled out for me.

When I showed this to Pumpkin, she wondered what a co-worker's bill would look like. Her co-worker has 20k in credit card debt. I asked if it was due to student loans, maybe a car. "Nope, just stuff". 20k worth of stuff. I asked Pumpkin if this co-worker was concerned about this amount and she just shrugged and said "doesn't seem to be". My stomach hurt when I heard the amount, and I don't even know this person. Just like how we can do a nice gesture for a total stranger, then the next minute snap unnecessarily at the one person closest to us, sometimes we care more about helping those of us we don't know than those of us that we do.

I can understand how some people might run up debt, but only if that matter is related to a medical condition. Then again, Pumpkin had surgery 14 months ago that required her to pay $8,000 out of pocket while insurance covered the rest. She makes less than me. She asked her parents for nothing (but would have accepted had they offered), and turned down similar requests for help from me. She arranged with the providers a reasonable payment schedule and everything is now paid off. No debt. Ok, so I guess I don't understand how people can might run up debt. Certainly not 20k on "stuff"

I've got more to say on the matter but I have a 14-page phone bill to look over, so it'll have to wait for another time

Tax Relief, Not Haiti Relief

Death. Squalor. Crime. Desperation. Yep. That's Haiti. And then the earthquake hit.

I'll admit that I've given money for Haiti relief but I only did that so I could take a charitable deduction. I don't have any belief that my money actually helps. Haiti was the poorest country in the Western Hemisphere before all the mud huts collapsed, but to hear coverage of the story, it's being made to seem like it's Palm Beach under siege. Haiti isn't/wasn't Palm Beach. Hell, it's not even West Palm Beach. It's poverty on a level we can't comprehend, especially if your biggest problem is that your little Emily can't take oboe lessons at school any more because of budget cuts.

I would rather give to help animals than to help people. I just think that the more you hand over to people the more they're going to screw it up, and the more likely that corruption will result. I feel much better dropping off several bags of Science Diet to the ASPCA than I ever will cutting a check to Doctors Without Borders or anything championed by Bill Clinton. Dogs and cats can't help themselves (ok, maybe cats can) and my money spent there makes me think I'm actually doing some good. After all, Haiti's pre-earthquake situation can only be blamed on the people we're giving money too. Ain't that somethin'?

NOTE: After seeing the new version of "We Are The World" (performed for Haiti "relief") I'm considering asking for my donation back

Done With It, Not Over It

So I'm at a party for a friend last weekend. I like heading out to birthday parties these days as much as I like a good cystoscopy (look it up), but he's a good friend, so Pumpkin and I ventured out. I knew from seeing the guest list that a lot of former co-workers would be in attendance. For this reason alone, I dreaded the whole affair.

See, I knew all I'd hear from them is how much the old place made a mistake when they let me go, how they don't like the new show at all, etc, etc. I know that sounds arrogant but it turned out to be 100 percent true. Not only that, friends of the guest of honor also volunteered the same opinion. I used to like hearing stuff like that, but now that it's been over two years since my dismissal I'd rather hear "what are you doing these days?" than anything else. Them not knowing what happened to me is much preferred over rehashing what did happen to me. In spite of have three delicious, refreshing Michelob Ultras, I left the party depressed.

When I watch shows like "Intervention", I'm always struck by the number of times that the protagonist goes into rehab, comes out clean, then falls flat on his/her face soon after their release. The simple fact is that they go back to seeing and associating with all the triggers that got them into trouble in the first place. In order to truly come clean, they need to make a complete break from the old life that brought them to where they are now. Such, it seems, is now my case with radio.

While I like hearing that I'm missed, it doesn't make me feel any better. In fact, with time it only makes me feel worse. Perhaps the only way to fix this is a fresh start in a new place. Certainly, Pumpkin wouldn't be against it. I'd have some friends that I'd dearly miss, but eventual long-term happiness might best be served by movin' on down the road. The only that's holding me back from a more aggressive relocation pursuit is the Las Vegas real estate market. To move now would be like selling an investment you know will grow more over time. But is the greater profit worth even greater misery?

In the meantime, the only solution seems to be this: drink alone.